Lobby: 3.5/5, beautiful flooring and furnishings, but felt too enclosed even with the open air ceiling a \240floor up. \240A good lobby should feel capacious even when it’s small.

Excellent Iberian ham

Chocolate like 7 different ways

Plaka in the early morning is that eerie sort of lovely: a more substantial version of the feeling associated with “liminal spaces,” whatever that even means now.

The cats outnumbered the people, most of whom were setting up their shops and restaurants for the day.

There was the ubiquitous graffiti, of course, though in the morning dark the painted text sometimes felt profound.

And of course a good urban street maze would be incomplete without some standout shops.

Alas, when I got to the closest access point to the Acropolis, I found green gates, and so took the only shot of the sanctuary that made sense as quickly as possible so as not to disturb the couple passionately talking: though whether in the spirit of anger or romance, I couldn’t tell.

I then decided to walk back to Syntagma Square, in the hopes I could catch something of a sunrise.

On the way there, I couldn’t pass up this parking garage with an overhanging icon:

A few more shots on my way:

The square—smaller than I expected—was busy when I reached it: on one side, two armored buses of police, while on the other pairs and triplets stumbled, still in party garb from the night before. \240Since I arrived ten minutes before the changing of the guard, I stayed to watch it:

After breakfast on the Electra Palace’s rooftop restaurant, we headed off on a brief tour of the area, stopping at the first Olympic stadium:

Apparently you can run on the track for €5

But of course the main event was the Acropolis.

The crowd nearly refined my experience of the place. \240I wanted to encounter the ghosts of what I read about in the spot where the Spartans retreated after an opening confrontation that would presage the Peloponnesian War, or to encounter the Caryatids with the stillness that those artists whose drawings are responsible for us knowing anything about the statues that were blown up when the Parthenon exploded must have encountered. \240Instead, the cacophony and especially the mass tour guides with their umbrellas and flags upraised to keep people from getting lost echoed a place I used to love for its sheer artificiality: the shops at the replica of Venice in The Venetian in Las Vegas, where I once laughed at the notion of their being mass tour groups I associated with cruises at a mall in the middle of the desert. \240But whereas that parallel endeared me more to the shops—as if those groups somehow validated the reality that could come about through sufficiently sheer artificiality—I felt like the crowds had an opposite effect at the Parthenon: hollowing out the profundity of this place until it was difficult to feel anything for it. \240And while I certainly shouldn’t begrudge anyone their photos of the place, the number of cameras and phones being constantly wielded—and wielded badly, almost instinctively at every sight, so thoroughly documenting the experiencing that it became difficult to distinguish the subject and act of representation—bestowed an added layer of unreality that I had a hard time navigating.

Thankfully, our guide helped. \240I admired the Greeks’ refusal to let these spaces stay ornamental, such as in this Roman theater, clearly set up for current use:

I was also taken by the Caryatids, who I primarily knew from Bruce Sterling’s novel of the same name: a story of \240sisters bioengineered by a scientist bioengineered to lead humanity through the climate crisis after most nation-states have failed. \240I suppose I love a story of people who take on the weight of the world.

The accompanying Acropolis Museum, though, was absolutely worth it. \240Besides having most of the original Caryatids (minus one still in the British Museum, and one that Lord Elgin attempted to remove in pieces, failed, and then simply destroyed)—

—the museum itself is brilliantly designed. \240Its entryway has a glass floor, through which you can see the ruins of a Roman bath in the shadow of the Acropolis. \240This contextualizes the glass floors on every level of the three floor museum, through which visitor shoes are clearly visible: a reminder that while the museum allows access to the past as if through the distance afforded by a glass floor, so too will we become layers of the past to be museumified.

The museum’s centerpiece is its top floor, on which all the original sculptures and friezes from the Parthenon are housed in a windowed gallery that is the exact same dimensions as the Parthenon.

The entrance held small-scale models of what would follow, including these beautiful dioramas of the birth of Athena and the story of how the goddess became the city’s patron.

I wanted to stop at a komboloi club, but the rain came, and so we headed back to our hotel. \240

This sign perplexed me, but also made me smile, since I first ran into the term “flaneur” in Lyn’s class.

We tried to go to Birdman, a local Japanese pub, because it had an Iberico Katsu sando, but the place was fully booked. \240In fact, every single restaurant we tried to go to was fully booked; after an hour of searching, we gave up and ordered room service. \240The pizza was pretty great, as was the dessert.

I did at least find some komboloi that day, though it’s much bigger than what I’m used to, so maybe Elias will get this one.

As the night wore on, the pool area lit up.

The whole space was gently fragrant because of all the flowers and foliage in the courtyard.

The chapel was small, but ornately Greek Orthodox, with an iconostasis and all. \240Apparently Mykonos has the highest concentration of shrines relative to any other Greek island - over 800, for a population of about ten thousand.

Even with just one cruise ship at port, the town was so crowded. \240Here are just random shots I got from walking around.

This is probably my best shot of the day, technically speaking

I’m also kind of partial to this shot, though, because of how it captures the utility of Mykonos’ aesthetic choices

Our guide gave us one good experience: squeezing through an impressively narrow alley (I knew something was up when she told us to go one way, and that she’d see us on the other side).

Here’s a shot with Little Venice in the background - too bad I messed it up

And here’s a shot of the whole set from other vantage points.

The decor is Mykonos rocky, with its centerpiece decoration being two trees full of LED flowers. \240They apparently come from Hong Kong, and need to be replaced every few months because of the elements.

Lobster Roll - lobster tempura wrapped in soy sheets, topped with spicy king crab tartare and unagi sauce

Ribeye Beef Roll - King Crab and avocado, topped with seared black angus beef rib eye, beluga caviar, and truffle soy sauce

Sesame Miso - Dacquoise Hazelnut, Praline, Sesame, Chocolate Ganache, Miso

Welcome cocktails at Secret Spas

The true measure of how fancy a place is? \240It’s trash cans.

The tiny town had a komboloi shop!

There was also a free authentic cave house. \240Dug into the soft pumice rock, it was huge: maybe three full chambers, with small rooms on each side of those chambers. \240It was also frightening to be so in the dark.

Welcome to this dark hole!

I couldn’t figure out a way to do this space justice.

The boat is NOT for sale

Love me a hipster ice cream shop

Bed frames, outside of a house: probably because the people who fled the earthquakes that precede an eruption came back to try and fix their homes, and didn’t know an eruption was imminent

I wish I was brave enough to have many of these in my home.

The sign in front of the door couldn’t scare me.

I would later learn that the sign refers in part to the fact that the place was burgled, and almost closed. \240Glad they didn’t, because it was such a charming store.

The store’s two rooms are fairly small, but paint and bookshelf configuration do a lot to make the space feel full. \240It didn’t hurt that at the same time, the place was absolutely packed at 10:30 PM.

The ceiling has a timeline of the couple who opened this store, starting in 2004.

I didn’t do a great job of capturing this, but Atlantis Books understood the assignment. \240A good bookstore shouldn’t feel like a library; it should feel like a home library: organized in a cluttered way, willing to sacrifice quick reference for idiosyncrasy. \240Or rather, references are easy not because the place is made to make volume location easier, but rather because the space encourages its denizens to build a working familiarity with it in the way that a well-used desk can both look like a disaster and yet be better suited for work than a brand new station.

Almost every part of the store has a floating quote.

This page-lamp is also in the front room

Of course, I had to fall in love with a space that has a philosophy tower. \240They even had a Derrida book I didn’t own!

I was just taking the place in, when I overheard someone say, “Recommend a book to me.” \240I looked over, and saw the owner react to scant background info - the person’s favorite book is The Picture of Dorian Grey and a campus novel he couldn’t remember the name of - by starting to give a summary: “This book isn’t funny at all, but it’s beautifully written, and might be one of my favorite books of all time. \240It’s about a college professor who genuinely loves his wife and daughter, but ends up having a troubled life.” \240And I had to jump in, since I had just read the book the week before and assigned it for my class in the Fall. \240I started to sing John Williams’ praises, and that of Stoner in particular, and the owner and I got into a conversation about the book. \240As I explained my class, the person who asked for the book recommendation revealed that he was a failed Berkeley art history grad student, and still lives in Berkeley. \240Another lady who overheard us grabbed multiple copies of Stoner for her book club, which I hope somehow traveled with her to Santorini.

I followed the owner over to the back room, where he told a Greek-speaking worker that he didn’t have a book she wanted, but that he’d have it by the end of the season. \240He then instead recommended Illuminations by Walter Benjamin, saying he was out of fashion now. \240When he went off to help someone else, I asked her what sort of book she was looking for. \240She said that she’d only just started to read books in English, and then pointed to this quote.

I couldn’t resist talking up Benjamin and how his experiencing the end of the Austrio-Hungarian Empire informed his understanding of how to relate to a deadened reality; poor lady got teacher-me for a bit.

The owner offered me a minor discount as a “professional courtesy,” stamped my book, and put up with my constant picture-taking of his space. \240The room on the right is a small press, of all things.

Love all the quotes and art on its front as well. \240I’d end up spending much of my time during the day telling people to not just take photos of the store but to go in.

What does it say about me that I kind of want those castles?

Not sure I’d have noticed the school on the right at night

The square was at least fairly quiet.

I appreciate the constant presence of kids’ play facilities in the town squares here. \240With so little public real estate, it’s endearing to see such an emphasis on family activities

Part of why I love shooting sunrises is that it makes me feel like I’m seeing a secret dimension of the world in general: especially in tourist-places, where genuine experiences can be difficult to find.

Even an empty debris field can feel magical in the right light. \240

I also feel a bit braver when exploring at dawn, since I (perhaps foolishly) presume that thieves prefer \240night to morning.

And there’s something about seeing a closed store: a space that is vacated but not abandoned.

Everyone thinks you need to shoot directly into the sun in order to catch a sunrise, but I actually prefer the subtle drama that sidelight affords.

I love the juxtaposition between the iconic church and the iconic ATM

Of course, sometimes you get lucky.

Unfortunately, as the sun came up, so did the photographers. \240There were 3-4 pros waiting in the square for couple-clients. \240And I was swamped and shadowed by no less than 5 different groups of Filipinos who were out hunting for selfies.

I know, this comes with the territory, and it’s extra incentive to get creative with one’s photography, since I never feel more stupid when taking pictures than if I’m shooting the exact same subject and angle as 30 other people.

But as I sought different shots, the amateur photographers started to shadow me, sniping the shots I was taking.

And then there were the vloggers.

The gold laurel is certainly a provocative choice, though perhaps this photo does a good job of representing Santorini in general and Oia in particular

By the early parts of the morning, the pros - wielding two cameras with Holdfast Gear quick access straps - were almost lining up at the logical spots to shoot. \240I gave those photographers an empathetic smile as I passed them; it must be hard to bestow a sense of romance to these photos when then the sheer volume of customers must give the work a factory-like dimension. \240Having just covered a class on Hyperreality for the last few months, I was struck by the industriousness that both photographers and the photographed exhibited: as if there was no illusions that they were trying to capture something real through a very artificial process.

Because I felt so rushed last night, I went back to Atlantis Books to photograph its front.

While grabbing this shot, someone asked me in English, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turned around and agreed, and he asked me, “Are you a local photographer?” \240And when I said I wasn’t, he said, “Are you, by any chance, a teacher at University?” \240After making a joke about this yesterday - that it felt like the likelihood of seeing students or parents of students here was higher than it should be - I had to laugh. \240It was the father of Izzy Perez: probably the most beloved student in her grade (a rising senior). \240He said, “Oh, it’s the famous Adrian!” \240Apparently he saw me taking photos a little ways back up the road, and had been working up the courage to approach me. \240Indeed, he was shaking with genuine excitement at the coincidence; it’s his family’s first visit to Greece, and they are leaving for Crete at the same time we are tomorrow. \240He was genuinely nice, and this was more of a pleasant surprise than it could have been, but man, what a strange job I have.

I spent the most time trying to get a few technical shots of the half-light on the domed Church of Panagia Akathistos.

And my last shot before breakfast was of a photo shoot in the same square where I started.

It was near a record store and an unintentionally funny Asian place.

The following is just a dump of a few favorites…

Kind of love these ancient coffee cups

The legend of the minotaur was likely a distortion of the royal youths who went to Crete to ride bulls in the Minoan court as a way to prove their worthiness to lead. \240This is an absolutely beautiful figurine that captures the moment of mounting. \240The bull itself, sadly, is lost.

Love this metal pot offering, filled with tiny versions of itself

Pups

Bees

Our guide was fond of pointing out the advanced artistic techniques that the Minoans deployed.

The flowers here are so impressive

Kraken

A scale model of Knossos

Kraken

Lion

Snakes

Nautilus shell

Another offering bowl, this one celebrating how much livestock the person has

Burial helmet for a hunter, made of boar tusks

The piece de resistance of the museum is probably the Phaistos Disc, which contains an as-of-yet untranslated language.

I got way too close to buying a miniature Phaistos Disc

At the entrance was a refreshments vendor, who had this questionable candy.

Dad imitating a traditional Greek dancer at an exhibit inside the fort

The art was honestly quite good - love the piece on the far right

Shot of the dome

The dryness of the fortress contrasts well with the verdant surround.

After the fortress, we just walked through town: looking at the Venetian and Ottoman aspects, the floor plans designed to defend citizens from pirate attacks, and buildings over 400 years old right next to the district frequented by students.

There was also just impressive graffiti everywhere.

Because I needed to go back for this guy.

There was a lot of quirky art like this all around: none of it as thematic as Santorini, or manicured as Mykonos. \240This place felt a lot more family oriented, and was crowded with a much wider variety of people.

It’s hard to imagine an outdoor arcade on either of the other islands.

I also couldn’t pass up this place.

Sadly, its menu was mundane.

Dinner was pizza from Andros, where the host was super friendly.

One of the art exhibits: a house made of textile waste

A coffee shop sits in \240front of the reflecting pool with a good - if corny - food deal.

The coffee place’s placemat

More good graffiti on the walk back.

It’s a stunning shop; the only one I’ve seen that just sells komboloi.

He had a beautiful 11.5 year old dog, who he just spent a small fortune saving. \240Seems fine.

A few other gems from my walk:

And now, coffee and Crossings.

The main attraction though: Lord Byron’s scrawl, from some point before he dies fighting for Greek independence. \240

I got really into the pattern these lights set up. \240Still not sure which of these is the best photo.

On my first day I made it from St. Mark’s Square to The Rialto, which touched my Merchant of Venice- loving heart.

Other random shots:

I guess the highlight here is my sunset shots; I got a little lucky with an opening in the clouds right behind the two massive columns at the opening of the square.

I didn’t want to take too many pictures of the gallery, but this room - one of six, plus hallways - should convey the vibe

The island contains one of only two original Venetian bridges: original because it has no railings to make the transportation of livestock easier.

Yes, there’s a leaning tower here

The music coming from this bar, La Caravella, was bittersweet. \240The bar was packed, and the music from the ukulele as well as the live singers stood out even as it felt like every third restaurant had a live singer. \240There was something sweet about the intimacy these two were able to create: a bond between performer and audience, a synchronicity that I couldn’t quite enter because the bar was full, but that I so wanted to. \240Something that could make as played-out a song as “I’m Yours” feel soulful.

When I left, it felt like my loneliness was rewarded with a unique shot: a massed gondola parking lot.

I walked back to the Rialto, which was also packed, in part to see if I could even get into this pub. \240But the improvised sign for the ATM felt poetic.

it had a small art exhibit called “The Imaginary Forest.

The trees - so rare in Venice - made me think about how to evaluate Louis Vuitton’s place in the town. \240On the one hand, the brand is clearly not Italian, but Venice has always been a special case as a place of international commerce since way back in the Dark Ages. \240And given the republic’s wealth, is it not fitting that a high-end brand operates in the town? \240If the answer is no, then the trees are secretly critical of the store they reside in, insofar as they emphasize their own unreality and out-of-placeness. \240If the answer is yes, then

It took way longer than 20 minutes

Thankfully, the walk took me away from the more touristed parts of town into squares and alleys that felt like they were homes and not simply hotels in disguise.

Love this improvised column

It’s amazing how hanging laundry can add so much color to a Venetian canal

Lots of little shrines all over the place

A mirrored door!

I stumbled onto a workshop and art exhibit with this cute courtyard:

And I got so close to getting a fully panorama of this piece of graffiti, only for a quick-moving guy to get me to blink at the very end:

As I approached the store, the kitty-corner alley wall had some promising wall art:

The store itself was charmingly strange. \240It had more merchandise outside the store than in, and it’s front window was nearly covered by the store owner’s creations.

The door had a small cashbox where you could leave cash for whatever you took. \240I was sadly without cash and a little too dehydrated to seek cash out, otherwise I would have bought something.

Love this display

Next to it was this poem:

Water taxi out of the taxi dock; the hotel takes up the entire island

The piles identify where the water is too shallow, so there’s a bumpy highway for water taxis on the way to the airport, which of course has its own dock